Defense Strategies
by Loma101
Summary: Follows Annie's agony in helping Britta deal with the return of a terror she wishes she could leave behind.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any of these characters.

* * *

Annie is sitting home with Troy and Abed, not trying to hard to follow the show, understanding bits of the story but not interested enough to ask. She hears her ringtone, reaches for her phone on the side table. A picture of Britta's face, faded by the flash, appears on the screen. Annie crosses her leg and answers.

"Hello?" She sings.

"It's me!" A trembling voice shouts.

"Britta?" Annie looks around her and gets up, turning her back to Troy and Abed and walking away. "What happened? Are you crying?" She says in a voice so soft that the boys can't hear her as she walks away.

"Annie, you have to believe me, I'm not going crazy!"

"What's the matter?" Annie whispers, worried.

"I saw him. Leaving a bar just now, I... I ran away before he could see me..."

"What? You saw whom?" Annie walks into her bedroom, "Britta are you drunk?"

" I am _not_ drunk," Britta shouts, "The guy is back, I just saw him."

"What guy?"

"The guy that raped me!" She shouts.

Annie freezes. Britta is panting on the other end of the call.


	2. Chapter 2

It was not a matter of whether or not Britta was right, it was just that Annie preferred to believe that nightmare was simply over. She wasn't sure what to do or say at this point, because she didn't know how Britta felt about this issue, already a year after it had happened. The phone was too impersonal and a simple "Are you sure?" had consternated Britta so bad that Annie had taken her car and driven to her house right away.

Britta locked the door behind Annie and stayed close to it to listen through for an extra second. Annie gasped, confused, and whispered, "Britta, please calm down," But Britta softly walked from the door to Annie, took her by the wrist and walked her to the couch.

"I can't calm down, Annie, this person invaded my house. This person knows where I live. This person... he could come back to my house at any minute." She said, turning around and looking at the door every second while she spoke.  
Realizing this could mean real danger and being almost sure her own mind was thinking clear, Annie thought of the obvious solution for the immediate problem, "Do you want to call Jeff or the boys?"

"No!"

"Britta, I know what you're thinking," Annie tried to explain, while Britta just waved her head in frustration, "But think about it. Jeff is self centered, I know, but if we called him, he would come running if there was anything wrong with either one of us, you know that..."

"Annie, I don't want Jeff to come here and assess my situation! What if this isn't the guy after all? I mean, I can't explain it, I'm so sure and at the same time, what if it isn't?"

"There is _nothing_ you should be ashamed of here," Annie started with a faint, sympathetic smile, "You don't need to hide, you don't need to be scared. It's us!"

And they sat there for an extra minute, holding a hopeful look against each other, defending their own points and to Annie's surprise, she was the one to sigh and look away first, waving her head, closing her eyes and telling Britta to pack a little bag and spend the night with her. She recognized at this point this would not be a battle she could win yet.

* * *

After the uncomfortable evening where Britta came into Troy and Abed's place, held a quick awkward conversation, which was how her conversations went at their house at this point, because this was their weird territory and her skeptical self, both girls silently laid down at Annie's bed and stared at the ceiling. Hours into the night, in the pitch black dark of a night without moon in Colorado, with the television still on in the living room after Abed had probably fallen asleep, Annie decides to ask, since she knows Britta is probably as awake as she is.

"What's on your mind?" She whispers

"I'm not sure what's on my mind." Britta whispers back.

"Do you still think about talking to the police?"

After a pause, Britta answers, "I do. But I'm not sure how to, if I acted like a baby just by seeing him once."

"What do you think would happen if you did?"

Another pause, "I don't know."

Then they lay in a long, helpless silence. Britta moves around uncomfortably, but stays on the same spot and sighs. Annie's mind dances around a simple solution, because there should be one, but she can't find it. Without looking, she lays her hand next to Britta's and holds it for a second.

"I'm here for you though."

Britta holds her hand back and turns to the side smiling. Annie shoots her a quick smile and lets go, folding her hands on her stomach. Britta slowly does the same.

"What do you think happens if this is not the guy?"

"I don't know."

"How am I gonna find the guy again?"

Annie thinks for a while and closes her eyes.

"We'll come up with something."


	3. Chapter 3

"I have something for you" Annie said the next afternoon after everybody else left the study room.

"For me?"

"Yes." She smiled large and gave Britta a dark green box that looked too suspicious to be a present. Britta gave Annie a concerned look and opened the box. Inside was a heavy pocket knife.

"Oh my Gosh, Annie."

"Wait, hear me out," Annie reached out and held the green box and Britta's hand, "I need to tell you something."

Britta stared at Annie and they both sat back down at the table.

"I have no idea how you feel. And I understand that you don't want to talk, but..." Annie looked around again and apologetically sat down and brought her hands to her lap, "I went online to a rape victims website and..."

"Annie!" Britta exclaimed startled and looked around her at the windows.

"I want you to feel safe. I know you're at my house now, you're not alone, like, ever, but I want you to feel safe. And I don't know how to help."

Britta felt tears fill her eyes, but she didn't know why. What would she do with a pocket knife? Would she have used it? Would it have made any difference? Would _he_ have taken it and used it against her? Her mind was brought back to the man on top of her. Grunting. Ripping her open. Pushing himself in. His body was heavy, it pinned her down. He held her face when she couldn't stop crying. His body sliding on the sweat on top of her body.

It went on. And on. Every thrust, Britta wished was the last. She had pleaded, begged him to stop. She had wished she would faint.

"Britta!" Annie shouted, bringing Britta back to the study room.

Britta looked up and realized she was crying. When she tried to clean her face with her hands, she noticed she had a strong grip on the pocketknife and she couldn't let go. Panting, she looked at Annie, who stretched her own hands and held onto Britta's.

"You're ok. I'm here."

Britta dropped the knife and cleaned away her tears.

"I know" She said and took a few deep breaths. After a moment she waved her head.

"What is it?" Annie asked.

"I want him gone," Britta said looking at the wall, "I know it's him, and I want him gone."

Annie nodded, "Ok."

"I'm going to that bar," Britta said, suddenly putting her elbows on the table and getting very close to Annie, speaking in whispers, "I'm waiting until he shows up. When he does, I'm calling the police." Annie sighed nervously. She nodded again.

"We'll leave the bar before it's dark out." Annie suggested. Britta nodded and got up throwing her bag on her shoulder. Annie had to run to try to catch up with her. "Wait! Britta!"

"I need a cigarette!" Britta shouted from the hallway.

* * *

It's a warm Spring afternoon in Colorado and although the sun's still out, a chilly breeze runs down the street. Britta and Annie walk out of the lot on the corner and past a pet shop and a record store, reaching the bar. They choose a small two person table to the side, where Britta sits against the wall and Annie with her back to the people.

Britta is wearing sunglasses. Annie watched her fidget with her hair and sunglasses that afternoon, trying to look different, but she had gotten impatient and walked out of the house looking like her usual nervous self.

She sits down, crosses her arms, crosses her legs, uncrosses them, taps the table, finishes her first drink in a few minutes. Annie watches the whole thing with her chin resting on her hand. She sighs and looks around herself.

"Tell me the truth," She whispers, "How do you feel?"

"Ok." Britta answers scratching her neck.

"Tell me the truth."

Britta makes a face looking around herself, but doesn't answer the question.

"You're scared." Annie answers for her.

"I'm not."

"You are." Annie says, and the table is silent for a second, "You need to slow down, you finished a drink already."

None of the tables around them have people sitting down, but the patio is full, a few people are sitting inside and a few more sit at the bar counter. The whole place is filled with a faint sound of conversation and a burst of laughter every now and then.

Suddenly Britta reaches across and grabs Annie's arm. She holds on to the sleeve, panting quietly and lowering her head, "Don't look." Her voice shakes. Annie's back tenses up, she straightens up her own body, suddenly wanting to hide Britta behind a wall. Annie brings her hand to Britta's and helps her let go of her sweater.

"It's ok."

"He just walked in." Through the lenses, Annie sees Britta's eyes dart back and forth.

"It's ok, Britta." Annie whispers, but Britta stares at the bar counter and her panting becomes louder, like she's fighting to breathe, "Britta, listen to me, it's ok, you're alright."

"It's him." Britta reaches for her purse, but she can't find it, so she gets up, hitting the table beside them, startling herself. She turns around and grabs her purse, takes a step back and runs into a chair, knocking it over before she runs away from the bar.

Annie stares in fear and isn't able to look at the counter, for fear that the man recognized her. She gathers herself up, stands up, fixes the chair and walks away.

She steps out and sees Britta speeding down the block to where their car is. Annie runs after her without looking back. Not wanting to shout her name, she runs into the lot, where Britta gets into the passenger seat of her car and shuts the door. Annie gets into the driver's seat and locks all doors, turning on the car.

"Hey, it's alright! It's alright!" She says to Britta, who holds her phone in her hands and sobs, staring at the entrance to the lot. Annie sees this and drives out of the lot. Britta looks the other way when the car come out the sidewalk, "He's not here, Britta, he's not. You're ok." She says steering to the other end of the street. Annie drives on, listening to Britta try hard to contain her sobs, making them become deep breaths while resting her head back with her eyes closed. Her hands are still gripping the phone. Annie knows she didn't call. Without asking, she drives to her own house.

* * *

"It was a stupid idea." Britta says that night, when both are staring at the ceiling in the dark.

"It wasn't a stupid idea. You wanted to make sure it was him. Now you now."

"What am I going to do?"

"Well, you want to call the police, right?"

"I don't know anything about this guy!"

Annie turns to the side and sighs.

"We know where he hangs out," She starts, "And we know what he did to you."

Britta sighs but there's no answer.

"Why do you think it was a stupid idea?"

A sound comes from Britta's pillow like she just turned her head.

"You were there, right? You saw me freak out and run."

Annie stays put staring at Britta's side of the bed for a moment.

"This was only the first time you..."

"You don't get it," Britta said lifting her body and resting on her elbows while Annie thought, don't get what?, "Every time I go near this... guy, I'm going to panic." Annie stared at the dark in silence, not knowing what to say, "I can't look at his face and not want to run away. It's out of my control. I tried, but my whole body wanted to run. I don't want him near me."

Annie lays back down, her mind racing, her thoughts running circles around a solution (because there is one), but not being able to look directly at it. An investigation. The police. An arrest. A criminal. A rape.

A criminal. A rape.

A criminal. A rape.

A criminal.

"I'll go check him out." She says.

"Are you out of your mind?" Britta calmly says after a second.

"No." Annie answers softly, still forming these thoughts as she says them, "I have a plan." A few moments of silence went by until Annie turned on her side again and rested her head on her arm. She couldn't see Britta's face, only a faint outline of her body, but she pictured Britta's puzzled look, "He goes to this bar pretty often, it sounds like. If he's a regular, the bartender will know something about him."

"You're going crazy." Britta says, squirming and turning her back to Annie.

"Anything we have about him, _anything_ will help. The bartender will know something, his first name, where he works."

"You haven't _seen_ the guy," Britta moans, "You don't know what he looks like."

"I saw him a tiny little bit..." Annie murmurs, trying to convince herself along with Britta. "Can you describe him?"

Britta squirms back and lays on her back, thinking. Annie imagines she closed her eyes and thought for a while, because for a while the room is silent.

"He... has a wide chest. Or wide shoulders." She starts, "Has short nail beds... I think he bites his nails..."

Annie blinks in silence and waits, but that's it. That's all she's got.

"What does his hair look like?"

"It's, he's... brunette."

More silence. That's all. A brunette man with short nail beds. Annie can't think of any other strategies, but somehow, with the little she has, something inside her tells her this is possible. What's the logic? She thinks. There's no logic.

"This is never going to work." Britta murmurs at the precise time when Annie's brain is wrapping around this mysterious confidence.

"This... pig, raped you! In your bed!" Annie exclaims, and she knows Britta isn't even breathing because the room grows so silent it almost feels like the world stood still. The words, the way she said them, it throbs inside her, her throat feels swollen, she doesn't know what to say next. So she lays back down and exhales.


	4. Chapter 4

Annie lurks from the left side of the bar, on the quietest corner away from the door and the restrooms. At this point, about three hours in, whichever people here, are here to drink. Beers, mules, shots. Beers, mules, shots. Mules are the new shots, she learns tonight.

Cut to the very first time Annie came. She sat at the same spot, nervously holding her bag on her lap the whole time. She had profoundly stared at the faces - and nail beds - of each brunet man that came in. Every move she made was calculated. She went to the bathroom once quickly as possible. She focused on drinking extremely slow. She stared and made mental notes. She was waiting for the moment when a man with broad shoulders, short nail beds, dark hair and this _impossibly_ guilty energy would come in, and she would know instantly it was him. That's what she'd waited for the previous day. A man to aim her next plan at.

Then, little by little, each time she looked at a man's face for too long, she'd feel a small wave of nausea. She thought about Britta laying in her bed, half naked, cold, wet, while this man fucked her up and walked away.

Today, Annie is bored. Her purse is hanging on the back of her chair, she's holding her head on her hands. People have come, drank, talked and left. She couldn't recall any faces anymore, everybody looked the same. She stands, frustrated, and walks to the door thinking maybe Britta was right after all, there was no point. She and Britta had argued about this before she left. Britta was suddenly insecure about the consequences of starting an investigation with the police.

"What consequences?" Annie had wanted to know.

"Exposing myself in the most embarrassing way, and for _nothing_, if this happens to go nowhere..." Britta had decided.

"Britta! Exposing yourself? To whom? We are all on your side!"

"You are _all_ on my side?" Britta asked with surprise. Annie could see the desperation in her eyes. But when she closed her eyes and sighed and said,

"We _will_ be on your side," and Britta nodded and took a step back and looked away, Annie remembered. Her trust nowadays was so delicate that a single word could shatter it. "Britta, come on, I didn't tell anyone. All I'm trying to say is..."

Nothing. I'm trying to say nothing, she thought. I was just trying to help.

She'd left her house feeling empty and dark, which she knew wasn't really who she was, but this whole thing was hard to bear, being the single person who knew, the single person who could help with anything, if anything could be helped. And something needed to be helped, she knew, because now, every day Britta was somebody sadder than the day before.

Welcome to May in Colorado, it is raining outside. She sighs looking at the rain patterns on the sidewalk. Has this silliness gone too far? Her feet are wet, her legs are cold, her car is far. No messages on her phone, she checks. She rubs the goosebumps on her arms. The wind blows a small sheet of rain to her body and she steps out into it.

But something shelters her from the rain, she stays dry. She turns around. A man is standing by the door still and stretches his arm to hold an umbrella above her head. She squints and stares at him a while, so he frowns.

"Just trying to be a gentleman."

Now she frowns and looks around herself. Nobody is out on the street. It's dark, she can't see anything except blurred window lights and the splattering raindrops around herself.

"I'm Peter." He puts his other hand on his chest like he's talking to a child, "What's your name?"

"I'm Ann... gela," she answers, looking up at him.

"It's nice to meet you Angela. And what brings you to this God forsaken town?"

"I go. To work."

"I can tell you're uncomfortable talking to me. I'm sorry. I just wanted to offer you a ride under my umbrella." Pause. "I'm sorry, I just made it more weird. I..."

Annie laughs a bit still staring, like she is watching a show.

"You're a pretty girl. I understand. I just..." He stares down the street at nothing, Annie knows, because she just looked and you can't see anything. He grins and looks down, lifts one hand and shrugs at the rain. "This... Colorado weather. It's so unpredictable. I live in Florida" He says putting his hand on his chest again, "I can deal with hurricanes, but this weather... this... Winter in the middle of Spring. Can't deal.

"Why do you?" Annie replies, catching herself being flirty? What is she doing?

"My mom's here, she had a stroke a few weeks ago."

"Oh."

"Oh, don't worry, she's ok. My dad, he took good care of her. She'll be good as new soon."

"I'm sure she appreciates you coming."

"Couldn't not come," he says shrugging again, "Greendale is ok. I grew up in Denver." He says and looks down at the end of the street again "You want a ride to your car?"

"Sure." She answers, and he steps down and next to her. Wait! How irresponsible! Or is this paranoia? Is she willing to take the risk? "Actually," she stops, then he stops one step ahead and looks back, "I'd better..."

He looks down and nods. He takes a step back from her smiling, "I understand," He says and walks away, "Good night!"

She watches him walk on. The cold water quickly starts drenching her hair. She squints and tries to cover her face with her hand, but the wind waves the rain about and she can't see much ahead. It's cold, she shivers. And dark. It's very dark. The lot is a block ahead, the same direction he is walking, and she is left alone in the dark with the shouting of the rain.

"Actually!" She shouts loud, "Wait!" While she walks, she picks up her phone and dials 9-1-1, holding it in her hands and crossing her arms. She holds her keys in the other hand, she can see the lot already, her car is parked right up front.

"Change your mind already, huh."


	5. Chapter 5

She watches him walk on. The cold water quickly starts drenching her hair. She squints, raindrops hitting her eyelashes, and tries to cover her face with her hand, but the wind whirls the rain about and she can't see much ahead. It's cold, she shivers. And dark. It's very dark. The lot is a block ahead, the same direction he is walking, and she is left alone in the dark with the hollering of the rain.

"Actually!" She shouts loud, "Wait!" While she walks, she picks up her phone and dials 9-1-1, holding it in her hands and crossing her arms. She holds her keys in the other hand, she can see the lot already, her car is parked right up front.

"Change your mind already, huh."

Annie laughs, "It's really cold."

He laughs. They walk on in silence.

This silence makes Annie a bit more comfortable, all the while, she focuses on watching his movements. She looks down as they walk in the dark a few more steps, reaching a small lot at a corner. Weeds grow along the fence, at the other end, an old paying booth sits empty. Annie slows her pace and lets him walk on, stepping sideways into the lot.

"Well, this is me..." She sings walking backward to her car, "Thanks..."

He turns around.

"Oh, you're welcome!" Standing at the entrance, he waves. "It was a lovely chat, Miss Angela." Slowly, watching her, he extends his right hand for a handshake, taking a step forward.

Annie's heart jumps and she quickly turns around and fits her key in. While she turns it, she looks behind her. He paces toward her, hand extended, giant grin on his face. Annie cries, "Oh my God." and turns around to look at her phone. She knows.

"Oh, such a dumb, dumb little girl." He says, holding her by the hair and pulling her against him, "And. As usual, so pretty." One hand clutches her throat. The reflex of fighting for air makes Annie drop her phone to hold his arm. He looks at the ground, chuckles and kicks it to the side. He walks her further into the lot, "Scream. And I will kill you."

Annie knows it's true. She may die tonight. This man may kill her. This lot in the night may be the last sight she'll ever see. He lets go of her throat to hold her face. She whimpers inside his hand.

"I don't want to kill you. Don't make me do it." He says in her ear, "I just want to have a private talk in this alley." He grunts and fiddles with his belt. Annie holds his arms, not strong enough that she is fighting but strong enough to still feel that her face is there.

In the dark of the alley the rain hits the dumpsters like drumsticks. He turns Annie around and pushes her against the wall. They are sheltered from the rain, he gets close to her face and breathes on her, staring her in the eye. His other hand gently picks up her purse, slides it off her arm. Her instinct is to try to hold on to it, but he slightly knocks her hear against the wall and gives her a long, warning look. She lets go and it falls on the ground. He kicks it to the side as well.

"Here is what will happen, dear." He says with his eyes locked with hers. She shuts hers, so he talks inside her ear again, "I will let go and you will be quiet. Quiet! Now. Don't be scared of this part," his voice shakes, "I'll take your clothes off and I'll fuck you." Annie sobs clutching her clothes, not noticing she's doing it. His face is pressed against her head and his lips touch her ears while he talks, "But you'll be ok, don't cry. You'll be a good girl and not make a fuss and daddy here, daddy here will not hurt you." He pulls his face away from her and looks her in the eye. "Will you be a good girl?"

Annie's red eyes look inside his. She hesitates a while, then nods yes.

He takes a step back slowly and lets go of her face, watching her face dearly for a while. Annie's body is static, panic won't let her move. She is pale but for a mark on her face where his hand was. She pants, he waits.

"There you go..." He says calmly like to a child, "Calm down, Angie. Now," He walks around her body to one side then the other, examining her, "Let me take a good look at you."

Annie's head lowers and she watches him watching her body. Detestable scum. He makes eye contact with her, she looks the other way and locks her eyes on a light on a different building.

"Angie..." He calls, but she doesn't look at him, "Ann - giee." He gets close to her and gently pulls a strand of hair to behind her ear, she is still looking away, so his finger runs down her neck, follows the cleavage from her shoulder, down to her chest and grabs her breast.

She whimpers.

He looks up, startled. Startled, she looks in his eyes too, and he slaps her across the face.

She shouts.

Then he slaps her again.

This time only a sob comes out and she touches the wall to keep standing.

"Angie!" He chants reproachfully, "I thought I told you to stay quiet." She sobs leaning against the wall. "Don't cry, Angie. You don't have to cry." He touches the side of her face that's looking away and brings her face back to where she can see him. She shakes her head with pleading eyes. He pulls her body gently and holds her against him, she cries against his chest. "You're a good girl, Angie," he says petting her hair, "You're such a good girl."

Annie's face is buried on his shoulder. She clenches her fists, but doesn't have room to move. His hand runs from her hair down her back, he feels her ribs, her waist, her butt. He curves himself and reaches her leg. She looks down, she can't help but look. Feeling her leg, he lifts her skirt and runs his fingers up and down her underwear. Annie's stomach drops. He pulls her body against his with an arm around her waist, his other hands feels the skin under her panties.

"Please," She whispers.

"Shhh."

His fingers move into her. He grunts.

"Please!" She begs in a small cry.

"Shhh, this will be quick and easy if you're quiet." He whispers in a raspy voice, pushing his fingers in, Annie gasps, he takes them out, "You don't want it to hurt," He does it again, pushing hard, and Annie cries louder on his shoulder. He takes them out. "Do you dear? Do you want it to hurt?"

Annie shakes her head and in her sobs, whispers, "No."

Smelling her, breathing on her ear, he does it again.

"Say that again, love."

Annie sobs harder and shakes her head, unable to say anything. He rubs his crotch against hers as much as he can still with his hand inside her panties. He pants.

"Say it!"

"No!" She cries, "Please!"

His hand lets go of her back and move to inside his pants. He leans against her, pressing her against the wall. He pulls his fingers out of her, clutches her underwear, rubs her, holds her. He groans, huffs.

"I'll do... this... slowly, Angie. Carefully. So that... you don't... hurt. And... you can... feel... every inch of it."  
He starts to unbuckle his belt, jerking himself, looks down at it, moans.

Panic takes over Annie, she slides down the wall, dropping to the ground, by where her purse is. Without a thought, she grabs her purse and darts away from him, crying, she tries to run feeling for the phone inside her purse. He jumps on her, knocking her to the ground on her side. She screams, her purse falls open and the contents spill all over in the dark like little tin toys. He snatches her arm, turns her around. She falls on her back, he leans over her holding her wrists above her head. The rain showers over them. She wails.

"You want this rough, Angie." He sings.

"No!"

"You're a bad little girl!" He squirms and kneels between her legs.

"No!"

"If this is the way you want this, Angie," He says letting go of one of her wrists and undoing his pants, "I'm going to fuck you harder than you've ever been fucked before!"

Wailing, Annie looks around her head for her phone, but what she sees close to her in the dark is a heavy pocketknife.

He unzips his pants, the entire weigh of his body on top of her wrist, pushes his pants down, lifts up her skirt, reaches for her panties, "If you think this is scary, wait and see..." He pulls her legs open.

Annie shuts her eyes as hard as she can, looks away and uncontrollably waves her free hand in front of her, holding the pocketknife as hard as she can, slicing whatever may be in front of her face. A second after, he screams a the top of his lungs. In terror, she screams too, still slicing, although mostly just air, unable to open her eyes. He throws his body back, away from her, in silence now, scrambles back. Annie opens her eyes, his hands hold his face while he tries to still move away from her and stand up.

Crying, she turns over and, without looking back, runs from the alley, onto the parking lot. Her car is waiting in the distance. Feeling he's at her heels, she runs in panic, still screaming. Getting closer to her car, her phone and keys appear on the ground where he jumped on her. She picks them up, gets in the car, turns it on and steps on the gas as hard as she can. The car screams running backward, screeches and darts forward, screeching on the way out as she turns. She never looks back because she feels him following her, even though he's not there.

Huffing, she speeds down the street, runs a red light. The rain doesn't allow her to see much on the rear view mirror, but she watches it more than the road in front of her for a while. A minute goes by and her panting slows down. She struggles to take deep breaths and finally is able to look forward while she drives. Her hands clutch the steering wheel, her back is stuck to the seat, she sobs loudly, she feels unable to blink. Her heart won't slow down for a while still.

Shaking, she spots her phone on the passenger seat. Next to it, the pocketknife. She stares at the pocketknife. There is no blood, even though she is sure she slashed him. She felt it. Is he unharmed?

Is he unharmed?

With her hand shaking, she dials 9-1-1.

"9-1-1, where's your emergency?"

"Where, uh..."

"Maam, where is your emergency?"

"Green... no. Whittier. Whittier, Greendale, Colorado."

"What happened?"

"I just... was... attacked."

"Where are you now?"

"Driving away."

"Where did the attack happen?"

"On the back of... Woodsley's, the bar on 32nd Av."

"On the back?"

"In the alley, the guy... I think, I don't know, I think he's still there."

"Do you know this person?"

"No, he's not there, I'm sure... I'm sure he's gone!" She cries out and looks at her rear view mirror again, starting to sob.

"Maam. Do you know this person?"

"No!" She screams.

"We have a car driving to the location, are you sober enough to be driving?"

"Yes."

"Did he take anything?"

Thinking of this question almost makes Annie feel sick. Did he? What difference does it make? She is soaking wet, driving in the rain, no idea where she's going. This guy was about to rape her, she tried to slice his face open. She starts sobbing again.

"Maam."

"No."

"Was there a sexual assault?"

"I don't..." She thinks. She knew the exact definition of sexual assault this afternoon but she doesn't know how to answer this question now.

"A car is on the way to the alley behind 2500 32nd Ave, and maam? If you were to visit a police station and start an investigation, we'd love to try and help."

Annie sniffs.

"Ok."

She hangs up. This is over, she repeats in her mind this is over,

this is over,

this is over,

but she lies it. She sobs, she stops, she sobs, she stops. She wipes her tears with the back of her hand. She picks up her phone again, unlocks it again.

"Hello?"

"Jeff!" She shouts, "Jeff!" And she breaks into sobs again. Jeff calls her name, but Annie can't talk, can't breathe, so she slows down the car, lowers the phone and presses it onto her chest. What's going to happen now?

What's going to happen now?


End file.
